Gatherings

Some Things Never Change

"THEY ARE MY CHILDREN! YOUR GRANDDAUGHTERS!"

A door slammed somewhere in the house below, and Natalie Chase realized that she truly was home.

"Ninety minutes," she muttered, adjusted the straps of the black dress she had been coerced to wear. "A new rec-"

A shrill cry filled the air, and the young woman instantly stopped what she was doing and scooped up the squirming bundle atop her childhood bed.

"Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. It's okay," she cooed, pulling back the white blanket to reveal tufts of wild blond hair. The baby calming ever-so slightly from the skin-to-skin contact with his mother and cool, fresh air touching his fluffy scalp. "It's okay... Uncle Randolph and grandpa are just having another one of their spats..."

Her stomach twisted in knots from guilt at the oversimplification of events.

Calling the one-sided screaming match between Randolph and their father a "spat" would only be fair if they were a normal family, where arguments were born out of a place of love. Calling it a "spat" ignored the years of abuse their father had subjected them too- with Randolph receiving the worst of it.

"Actually, you should be cheering for your uncle," she whispered as she gently bounced in place to calm her son, while looking between every corner of her room for anyone that might have heard her blasphemous words. "It sounds like he's not rolling over this time." She pulled the swaddled baby from her shoulder and smiled at his pudgy, little face. "Can you say, "go Uncle Randolph"? Huh? Can you cheer for your uncle? Or how about a "fuck grandpa"?"

Magnus kicked under the nearly translucent white blanket and let out a heart-warming squeal of delight- that quickly turned into a burp.

Natalie laughed -for the first time since she crossed the threshold into the brownstone- and hugged her son. "I'm sure Uncle Randy would be thrilled to have your support," she beamed.

"And I'm sure father would be thrilled as well..."

Her heart skipped a beat as she nearly jumped out of her skin from fright. In the same moment, she clutched Magnus to her chest and spun around- and her fear was replaced by annoyance and anger.

"Jesus Christ, Frederick! Would you learn to knock?!"

Her brother stood in the doorway with his hands pressed against the ancient, wooden frame. Like her, he was dressed in an expensive new outfit oh-so generously provided by their father. In his case, a midnight black suit, black tie, pristine white shirt, and round black spectacles that made him look like a scrawny school boy- despite his pathetic attempt at a goatee and mustache. His blond hair was parted at the left, and Natalie couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to hide a bald spot.

"Jesus Christ," he repeated slowly, turning the words over in his mouth as if it was the first time he heard them. "We both know he's not in this house, Nat."

She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Spare me the melodrama, Freddy. What do you want?"

Her brother narrowed his eyes at Magnus, and she unconsciously turned to block her son from view. "The portrait guys want to get this over with." He rolled his eyes. "Can't imagine why..."

"Yeah... I wouldn't want to be here either after that. Hell, I don't want to be here period," she sighed.

"Same," the middle Chase sibling stated- which was about the most comfort he had ever given her in their lives. The most being the time he got her a bandage when she scraped her knee.

An uncomfortable silence -one all too similar to those they experienced every dinner for eighteen years- settled over the room, with Magnus' gentle cooing and the whistling of the ancient radiator being the only sounds. Frederick opened his mouth a few times as if to say something but settled on looking at his reflection on his polished shoes. She focused on Magnus for a time, but the infant was quick to fall asleep in her arms. Forcing her to break the silence.